"There's a house ahead, and a telephone wire running into it," said young Prescott. "We'll try to get that far, and then we'll telephone into Gridley."
That much of the trip was made, with a couple of short halts for rest. Dick went up to the front door of the farmhouse and knocked loudly. It was the farmer himself who came to the door.
"We've found the boy that all the searching parties were out looking for," Dick announced. "May we use your telephone to send the word into Gridley?"
"You sure can," rejoined the farmer. "Come this way." Then, with a side glance at young Holmes, "I guess you're him."
"And you hain't had a bite to eat for a day or two?"
"No."
"Mother," called the farmer, leading the way into the living room, "here's that missing youngster that there's been all the fuss over. He's hungry. You know what treatment that calls for."
Dick, in the meantime, had espied the telephone and was engaged in ringing up. He called for the police station and sent the news to the chief.
"And say that I'm hitching up a team and am going to bring you all in," added the farmer. So Prescott added that item of information.